


Vanitas

by onegreenline



Category: EXO (Band), NCT (Band), SuperM (Korea Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Coming of Age, M/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:00:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26230780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onegreenline/pseuds/onegreenline
Summary: New York is a lot of things to Taeyong, but none of them are as important as Baekhyun.
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun & Lee Taeyong
Comments: 7
Kudos: 33





	Vanitas

So many cigarettes had been lit inside Rue B that whenever Taeyong walked past the doorway of the tiny jazz bar, the acrid smoke snaked outside and stained the air around the sidewalk in a permanent cloud. Even when Taeyong skirted so close to the curb that he could feel the wind displaced by passing bicyclists, he could always smell bitterness.

Rue B had only been open for a few years, but it felt more like what Taeyong imagined the old East Village had been than most of the other bars and restaurants currently taking up residence in Alphabet City. It was grimy and small, and it smelled terrible. Exactly what New York had been to Taeyong.

“I don’t understand why you hated the city so much,” Jongin said once over lunch in their company’s high-rise. Jongin’s office was a corner suite, the windows stretching from floor to ceiling and wall to wall.

“I didn’t,” Taeyong had said. And that wasn’t really a lie.

The truth was, when Taeyong moved here, he had expected to be immediately engulfed in skyscrapers. He rode the escalator out of Penn Station, which deposited him onto the corner of West 33rd and 8th Ave. He had his head tilted up in preparation for the view.

But the first thing he saw was empty air.

He looked back down like a normal person. The lot across the street was home only to a single-story chain drug store.

Of course, there were still huge buildings in the area, and they did make Taeyong feel small. But he had been counting on a rush going through him, a little sign that he was somewhere that mattered and that made him matter, too. That the first thing he saw of the city was emptiness stole a bit of wind out of his sails.

Taeyong went to the apartment that he was subleasing from his cousin on East 12th Street, between 1st and 2nd Avenues, taking a cab because he didn’t want to deal with lugging two huge suitcases and a duffle bag on a long walk. During the ride, he wondered how long it would take for him to feel like he was a New Yorker.

It had been a few years since that first day in the city, and Taeyong had gotten no closer to feeling like he belonged here. But it wasn’t that Taeyong now hated New York, or that he thought it wasn’t a good place to be.

It was that there were so many people here, each from different places and at different stages of their lives, with different goals and ideas and values, that when they all gathered together it ended up feeling like nothing at all. Taeyong had expected there to be inherent meaning here, and there wasn’t. It had always been up to him to make his own meaning, and he had struggled terribly to do that.

“What are you looking at?” Baekhyun asked, his voice muffled in the bedsheets.

Taeyong didn’t turn around. The scattered people below Baekhyun’s 30th floor luxury apartment looked like ants. Their towncars belonged in a mini play-set. Taeyong wanted to reach down and pick one up, run his fingers over the smooth metal.

A pleased sigh came from the bed. “You’re like a cat. Always have to watch what’s moving.”

Today, it was overcast and gray, the sidewalks below carrying only a fraction of their normal load of pedestrians. The weather made the neighborhood seem a little gloomier than usual, but the Financial District was always kind of weird to Taeyong. Bustling on weekdays, it turned into a ghost town at night and on the weekends. A late Saturday afternoon with raindrops rolling down the windows made it feel almost as if the humans walking below were anything but. Possibly some sort of projection?

Leaving Taeyong and Baekhyun the only two real people in the city.

Warmth enveloped Taeyong from behind. Baekhyun had carried the comforter over to the part of the window—did everyone have floor-to-ceiling windows in FiDi?—that Taeyong was standing at, and he brought it around both of their shoulders.

“It’s so dark outside,” Baekhyun said, lowly, his arms strong around Taeyong’s front and his mouth close to Taeyong’s ear.

All of a sudden, Taeyong’s chest drew in a deep breath of air, like he’d forgotten to breathe and his body needed a quick burst of oxygen. “It feels like we’re alone,” he said.

A little chuckle, an exhale, came from Baekhyun’s nose. “We are alone.”

Taeyong tipped his head back onto Baekhyun’s shoulder and closed his eyes. The stretch in his neck felt good.

Taeyong was a much different person than when he first moved to New York. Before, he had been questioning who he was and what he wanted and how he should get it. He had thought that moving to the city was the answer to those questions.

It turned out that moving was not an answer. If anything, it only delayed the moment that Taeyong would stumble upon the answer, if an answer even existed at all.

Rather than saying he had figured out any of his questions, Taeyong figured he'd moved away from them. Away from the person he was, the person caught between childhood and adulthood, with the body and the responsibilities of someone much older than he felt.

Instead of facing himself, Taeyong had directed his gaze outwards. He watched out for scaffolding and piles of trash as tall as he was when he walked around the streets at sunset. He saw food delivery people flying past him on their bicycles, middle-aged men in Alphabet City tending their community gardens, homeless people playing chess outside empty storefronts.

He saw all of those things, but he never looked inside.

There was no point. He had scheduled his answers to arrive the moment he rose out of Penn Station, but they hadn't been there. If they wanted to find him, they could.

Baekhyun shuffled his grip on the comforter so that he held both ends of it in one hand against the middle of Taeyong's chest. His other hand, wide and warm, slid down Taeyong's front.

The pressure was calming. Taeyong used to feel his heart beat so hard when Baekhyun would first touch him, and the adrenaline-filled nights would exhaust him. But they'd been together so many times that, though his pulse still quickened, the shock of electricity had died out. In its wake was a deepness that was new to Taeyong. It was a solid, heavy, peaceful weight.

Baekhyun gently wrapped his hand around Taeyong. He pulled his hand up to the tip in a twisting motion and then danced back down, repeating the motion over and over.

Taeyong grew hard. The comforter concentrated around them the heat radiating from both of their bodies. He could feel sweat start gathering behind his knees and at the small of his back, and a twist went through him.

Taeyong sighed, the _haa_ sound falling out of him in time with his exhale. He brought his head back up slowly and looked distantly out the window.

The cloudy day and the fast-approaching twilight bathed Baekhyun's apartment in a dim grey light. Even if people occupied the apartments around them, no one would be able to see in through the windows.

Of course, no one on the ground could sneak a peek, either. And any ambient noise from below had a hard time reaching Baekhyun's apartment, even if the windows were open. 

The sounds of car horns and people yelling didn't come up this high, but there was always a loud noise whenever Taeyong cracked the window open a few inches. It was one loud sound that was the combination of many quieter ones: the wind rushing through the neighboring skyscrapers, the electric hum of the buildings' power systems, and some unknowable third noise that Taeyong could only place as sounding like modern human existence.

But once Taeyong had gotten enough of a breeze through his bangs, he would close the window back up. It slipped back into its perfect seal with the pane and all the sound shut off like a tap. There would be no noise in Baekhyun's apartment if it didn't come directly from them.

Now, the only thing either of them could hear were Taeyong's light pants.

His eyes were half-open, the pleasure in his groin radiating up through his belly and whispering for him to close his eyes all the way. Taeyong could feel his face heating, his stubborn tendency to blush holding on no matter how comfortable with Baekhyun he became. He squirmed and pushed back on Baekhyun, who steeled the arm around Taeyong's chest and held them together tight.

Taeyong whined. He couldn't help it. He was warm, and Baekhyun was so strong. 

Baekhyun would pull at his dick, then rub his tip loosely between his thumb and forefinger, making Taeyong's hips jump. Then Baekhyun's fist would sink back down to the base in a smooth descent that made Taeyong finally slip his eyes closed and gasp out.

Still, there was only so much Baekhyun could do with one hand, and Taeyong was getting too hot. Taeyong lifted a hand to Baekhyun's fist bunching the two corners of the comforter. He dug his fingers in to get Baekhyun to release the blanket, which fell around them. The cool air rushing against Taeyong's skin was both a shock and a relief, and he bent forward at the waist.

Baekhyun snuck his other arm around Taeyong and his now-free hand cupped his balls. Taeyong bent another few degrees forward, his own hands finding Baekhyun's forearms and smoothing up and down the soft skin to soothe himself.

Baekhyun's pace was steady. How could he be so steady? No matter what position or time of day or whether they were going fast or slow, Baekhyun's pace was constant.

The soft, loose twists and pulls and rubs drew huffs and gasps out of Taeyong's wet mouth. He kept curling forward until he had to draw his forearms up and brace them against the window. Baekhyun's hand left Taeyong's balls and started running up and down his inner thigh. Taeyong rested his head on the backs of his hands, and his hot breath fogged up a little circle on the glass.

They met in the East Village.

Taeyong had been trying to find a permanent office position but had not been able to achieve that goal. Instead, he was a waiter at a restaurant on the corner of East 14th and 2nd Ave.

In the warm months, he sweated under his white button-up as he served patrons sitting at patio tables outside. Sometimes a big truck would flash by in the far right lane, and a bit of wind would cool the sweat at his hairline.

In the cold months, he served hot drinks in the dark purple neon-filled interior. When he caught his reflection in a wall mirror, he saw that the neon light cast a violet glow on his dyed blonde hair.

The restaurant had a hushed clientele. For whatever reason, loud young people and pushy tourists didn't stop by. That was fine by Taeyong. 

He got to know a few regulars in the first few months he’d been working there, and they were mostly older couples from around the neighborhood and some individuals from the different schools in the area.

But on one bitterly cold day, none of Taeyong's regulars had braved a trip in. In fact, the windchill on that February night was so harsh that no one had come for the dinner service.

Taeyong's boss had sent all but one of the servers home an hour into opening when he realized he'd have to write the night off as a loss.

Taeyong didn't mind staying. He'd be scrolling through his phone back at his apartment, anyway.

So he was the only waiter on the floor that night. That night was also, coincidentally, the first time Baekhyun had come to the East Village in years.

He'd been there for a jazz show that Rue B had scheduled but postponed for some reason or other. Baekhyun was going to entertain a new client from Chicago, had arrived early to snatch up a place to sit. They'd cancelled after Baekhyun pulled the ice-cold handle on the door to Rue B and found that it would not open.

But Baekhyun, instead of calling his driver right away, walked a few blocks in the already-dark evening. He found a place that looked good enough to him, pulled open the door, and floated down into the sunken interior of Taeyong's restaurant. 

Most people, after they first came in, did a double take when they saw that the restaurant was half underground, not wanting to trip. But Baekhyun descended the three wide black steps with ease, like he'd been there a hundred times.

"To get out of the cold, for a little bit," he breathed, his vocal cords still frozen from the wind.

Taeyong turned on his heel and led the man to the best seat in the house, a corner booth near the back with ample floor space around it and the light of multiple neon pieces reflecting off the black tabletop.

Baekhyun shed his hat and scarf and gloves—all black, including his peacoat—before taking a seat, but he kept the coat on.

"Does that keep you warm?" Taeyong asked, nodding at his jacket. His own winter wear consisted of a years-old, long, puffy coat he'd gotten for 70% off during an end-of-season sale at a store near Union Square. He did have a fancier peacoat he'd gotten for interviews at the big firms, but he didn't get a lot of use out of it. Both because he didn't get any interviews and because it failed terribly at keeping him warm.

"Most of the time," Baekhyun said. "I keep it for the appearance."

Taeyong spoke more to Baekhyun that night than he had to any of his regulars over the year and half he had been there.

Baekhyun worked on the top floor of a skyscraper in the Financial District, at a company that Taeyong had never gotten a response from after applying. Baekhyun spent most of his time at work or at his apartment, preferring to do all his exploration of the city from the leather seats of his hired cars to and from his office.

"I moved here two years ago," Taeyong said as he set a cup of steaming coffee in front of Baekhyun. The menu was closed and sitting in the middle of the table, its glossy cover glowing purple from the neon.

"Have you been working here since?"

"No, I spent the first couple months trying to find a better job." Baekhyun kept a level gaze on Taeyong. "But I'm not qualified enough for entry-level analyst positions," he continued. "And the receptionist jobs are never posted for more than a few days."

Consulting work, paralegal work, reception work. Taeyong struck out on all of them. 

And he would consider dying his hair back to black if he thought that was hurting him. But no employer had ever gone far enough in the hiring process to see his mop of shoulder-length blonde hair in order to form a negative opinion on it. 

"It's not that I gave up," he added. "I still apply to a few jobs once in a while." For the appearance. "But I like working here."

Baekhyun sat back in the booth and took a deep breath as he looked around the restaurant, then exhaled. "It's cozy," he said, blinking, his tone belonging to someone who'd assumed there was nothing around him and was taken by surprise when he'd discovered that assumption to be wrong.

But it was cozy. In the general sense and that night, in particular.

Taeyong's boss closed up the restaurant for the night after Baekhyun paid. Taeyong went into the staff room and wrapped himself up in his winter wear, but when he came back into the dining room, he saw that his last customer was still there.

They sat in the backseat of a black Bentley as the driver headed for Taeyong's cousin's place. In between him getting into the car and stepping out onto the sidewalk in front of his apartment, Taeyong had exchanged phone numbers with Baekhyun.

The years that followed started off fast. Baekhyun introduced Taeyong to a brand new world, one that he had not before had reason to conceptualize.

He never thought about his restaurant when they ate food from Michelin-starred chefs. Rue B never entered his mind when he sat in the lounge of Baekhyun's apartment, listening to music slipping out of speakers so quietly he couldn't tell what genre it was.

When Taeyong was with Baekhyun, enjoying a lifestyle that had previously been unreal to him, Taeyong forgot about everyone else in the world.

Except for Baekhyun, of course.

The silky sheets were cool under Taeyong's back when Baekhyun deposited him in the bed. It was a very good idea, Taeyong thought, to turn things horizontal. He would not have been able to keep standing, not with Baekhyun's relentless hands pulling at Taeyong's sanity with every twist.

Baekhyun settled in between Taeyong's legs, pulling at his ankles and wrapping his legs around his waist. Then he leaned forward and kissed him.

Taeyong had kissed Baekhyun so many times, had been kissed by Baekhyun many more, but these slow, deep, wet kisses took over his senses every time Baekhyun blessed him with one.

He opened his eyes a fraction and saw the gentle crease in Baekhyun's brow, as if he was in the middle of important business that required professional concentration.

Taeyong smelled Baekhyun's cologne, which was sharp and cool and masculine but that Taeyong mostly thought of as just blue after he'd seen the color of the crystal bottle in Baekhyun's bathroom one night.

Taeyong felt the heat from Baekhyun's bare skin, the slick from the sweat on his back, and the softness of his delicate hair.

Taeyong's tongue stung when he dug it too hard into the tip of one of Baekhyun's canines, spit slicking up their mouths as they swallowed each other's taste.

But Taeyong's sense of hearing was responsible for the lightning strikes of heat that zipped straight through his chest, down his core, and to his groin. The sounds of smacking, of suction, of panted breaths and of Baekhyun's occasional low groans and rarer high-pitched whines.

The sounds that filtered through Taeyong's ears were as wonderful as they were terrible. It was heady and all-consuming.

Baekhyun kissed him with the skill of an experienced man, and Taeyong enjoyed each practiced lick and bite and suck.

The bed was warming underneath him, and he shifted his legs around Baekhyun's waist so that they wouldn't get stiff. He ran his hands through Baekhyun's hair, then dug his fingers into his shoulders. His palms smoothed over Baekhyun's sides, then came back up to rest right below his jaw.

Baekhyun brought his own hand up to Taeyong's neck, and a rush of nervous energy flitted through him.

Baekhyun's fingers danced up Taeyong's throat until his thumb smoothed over his bottom lip. It went from the center out, stopping at the corner of Taeyong's mouth. Then Baekhyun, still kissing, his lips sly and teasing, slipped his thumb inside.

He wanted it wet tonight.

The spit from both of their mouths that Taeyong had been trading with Baekhyun, or swallowing before it could be too much, started dripping from the corner of his mouth. It trickled down to his chin and even further, so that Taeyong could feel it going down below his ear and falling onto the bed.

Baekhyun kissed farther and farther to the side of Taeyong's mouth, his thumb following his lips, until their kiss broke and Baekhyun laved attention on Taeyong's cheek, then his ear, and then the start of his jaw.

Baekhyun's fingers didn't leave Taeyong's lips, though. His forefinger joined his thumb and delved inside Taeyong's mouth. Taeyong sucked, closing his lips around Baekhyun's finger and running his tongue around it.

Baekhyun's middle finger went inside, too, and then his ring finger, and suddenly Taeyong's mouth was full. His saliva still dripped from his mouth, and he knew as a matter of fact that he looked filthy. But the only thing he cared about was how good he felt, and how good he knew Baekhyun felt.

"You're so pretty when you turn red," Baekhyun whispered, his eyes taken over by an intense and single-minded gaze at Taeyong's face.

In response, Taeyong wanted to whine, but it came out muffled. He was so hard, had been shifting on the bed for a while now, and he was ready for Baekhyun to have mercy on his mouth. He could feel the saliva on the bedsheet when he turned his head, and the embarrassment—though he wanted it—sent a fresh blush through him.

The corners of Baekhyun's mouth lifted up, and he exhaled a sharp breath. "So beautiful."

Then Baekhyun pulled his fingers out of Taeyong's mouth and trailed them down his chest. In a blink, his wet hand again wrapped around Taeyong's dick.

Taeyong shut his eyes as he moaned. He heard Baekhyun fiddling with a bottle of lube next to them, felt his hand pull away for a few moments before a wet finger traced his rim and he shuddered.

In Baekhyun's big bed, in his big apartment, in this big city, it wouldn't be strange for Taeyong to feel small in comparison. Like no matter what he did, he could never measure up. 

It was natural, actually, and when Taeyong first moved here he had felt tiny.

But now the opposite was true. 

When Baekhyun's finger slipped past his rim, Taeyong could think of nothing else but how his abs clenched, his breath stuttered, and his throat worked through a choked gasp. 

How he felt at that moment was huge, much bigger than the total number of streetlights in Manhattan or the combined weight of all the cars driving in the city at any moment. Those measurements were insignificant, could not compare to Taeyong and how Baekhyun made him feel.

More lube and another finger delved inside Taeyong's hole, and he squirmed on the bed pointlessly. Baekhyun straddled one of Taeyong's thighs and pressed his free hand onto Taeyong's shoulder. He used it to balance himself and to keep Taeyong under physical control.

There were small, quiet wet noises coming from Taeyong's ass where Baekhyun had kept adding lube and a third finger. It was mindless, for Taeyong, to whine and huff and swallow as Baekhyun worked him open slowly and thoroughly. It was like Baekhyun wanted to melt Taeyong and turn his body to liquid.

A fourth finger filled Taeyong's hole and he clenched around them. Baekhyun was sickly methodical in his treatment, massaging Taeyong's prostate often enough to make him go blurry-eyed with want and damp with sweat but not so much that the night would end before Taeyong became incoherent.

He was well on his way, though. Another mean press of Baekhyun's long, clever fingers made Taeyong cry out and he felt a tear fall from the corner of his eye. "More," he panted, and his voice sounded far away and breathless. "No more," he said.

Baekhyun gave a huff of his own, but when it reached Taeyong's ears and he gathered the energy to process it, he decided it sounded more amused than wasted. "Which one is it?" Baekhyun asked, and his fingers were still moving, still rubbing and twisting and stretching. Still sending sticky pleasure around Taeyong's groin and up his spine, right to the backs of his eyes.

Taeyong licked his lips and swallowed, gathering strength. Distantly, he unclenched his fingers, and he felt the bedsheet fall from his hands. "No more of this," he breathed. "More of you."

"As you wish," Baekhyun granted, like a king.

Baekhyun gently withdrew his fingers, trailing them along Taeyong's walls as he left. Baekhyun's hand that had been pressing on Taeyong's shoulder trailed down his side, and then he was rubbing the tops of Taeyong's thighs.

The quiet ministrations gave Taeyong a moment to catch his breath. He was returning to the world as a regular member of it instead of floating above. He started feeling the air conditioning on him again and the sharpness against his sweaty skin brought him to a more substantial level of clarity.

The light had completely left them. It was very dark in the apartment when Taeyong looked down between his legs and kept his sight trained on Baekhyun. His eyes strained, and when he was able to make out more detail, he saw Baekhyun watching him.

It was impossible to see the exact expression Baekhyun had, but they had been close for so long that Taeyong could feel it as clearly as the A/C. Baekhyun's focus was in the air, and Taeyong would know that's what it was even if Baekhyun had not spent the better part of an hour pressing his intention into Taeyong's thighs, his dick, his ass.

"Get on me," Baekhyun whispered in the dark.

Taeyong swallowed. Baekhyun didn't stop touching Taeyong, but he did lay down next to him. 

His hands traced up Taeyong's stomach firmly enough that it wouldn't tickle. This close, Taeyong saw a few snatches of light reflected in Baekhyun's eyes.

They were staring straight into his own.

Taeyong checked that he still had control of his muscles, stretching and tensing, before he pushed himself up and lay himself out on top of Baekhyun. "You have to help me," Taeyong reminded.

Baekhyun's hands skimmed over Taeyong's hips and the sides of his thighs. "I always do," Baekhyun answered, and that was true. He always did.

One of Baekhyun's hands left Taeyong's side as it retrieved the lube. Taeyong pushed himself up, pressing his palms on the sheets on either side of Baekhyun's chest and bringing his knees forward so that he was kneeling on the bed. His ass sat right on top of Baekhyun's dick, and he could feel that it was hot and a little wet with precum and the smear of lube that had come out of Taeyong's hole.

Taeyong caught a motion in the darkness and realized that Baekhyun was holding the bottle upside down. Taeyong held out a palm, and felt a coolness spread on his hand.

Taeyong lifted his ass up and reached behind himself. He wrapped his wet hand around Baekhyun's dick, spreading the lube all over it with loose massaging swipes.

He heard Baekhyun moan quietly, and the sound inspired generosity in him. He worked Baekhyun's dick, taking care to swirl his thumb at the head for a few moments.

A few more groans and huffs fell out of Baekhyun's mouth until Taeyong could feel his hips kicking. He would have stopped then, anyways, but then Baekhyun poked his arm with the bottle and Taeyong looked up. 

“Take a little more,” Baekhyun panted, and Taeyong smirked. 

“You want it wet for me or for you?”

“Both of us.” 

Taeyong wasn’t convinced. Baekhyun had never said so, but they knew each other so well, as if they were extensions of each other. Taeyong could feel that when he got really wet, when they could hear the lube smacking as Baekhyun’s dick went in and out of Taeyong’s ass and the slide was smooth and fast, Baekhyun got a little more out of breath, a little more desperate in his thrusts. 

It made Taeyong feel good to know when he was pushing Baekhyun extra far. He held his hand out. It was too dark to see the label, but he could smell the strawberries. 

Maybe he’d get a taste later.

When Taeyong felt the lube stop dripping into his hand, he reached behind himself again and slicked more onto Baekhyun’s dick. 

He felt sticky. “You ready?” Taeyong asked, knowing what the answer always was but still speaking it regardless. 

“Come on, baby,” Baekhyun purred, and Taeyong could hear his smugness.

He raised himself up, then took Baekhyun’s dick in his grip and guided it to his rim. Baekhyun’s hands were strong and firm as they gripped his ass, and Baekhyun helped Taeyong stay steady as he sat down.

Taeyong took it slow to start. He would move his ass backwards and downwards an inch or two, shift his weight around his knees and hands, then bring his ass back up before falling back. Down and back, shift, feel the stretch and the heat and the buzzing pleasure, up, down. Repeat.

Baekhyun stayed still as Taeyong adjusted himself. Taeyong’s thighs were already straining, and he knew he’d have wobbly legs when this was over. But he knew that Baekhyun would help when Taeyong was ready.

It took a few moments of shifting for Taeyong to seat himself all the way. He had lost himself in the process, so that when he finally sank down, he was half-surprised to feel he didn't need to go further.

Taeyong shifted in his seat, the insides of his sweaty legs sliding against Baekhyun’s hips. He realized that his mouth was open, his jaw lax and pants quiet as he focused on the heat and weight of Baekhyun’s bare cock inside him.

Taeyong shifted on his hands and knees one more time, then began circling his hips.

The moment he started moving he heard Baekhyun grunt. The corners of Taeyong’s open mouth turned up, and he kept at it. Soft tendrils of pleasure radiated through his body, spreading the sweetness to every nerve.

Baekhyun’s hands still cupped his ass, and as Taeyong circled his hips and moved them forwards and backwards, he felt Baekhyun’s fingers gripping and pressing. 

“Don’t you want more?” came Baekhyun’s strained voice. 

Taeyong looked up, thought Baekhyun looked tense in the dark. “This feels good,” he said. “I bet I could get off like this if we did it long enough.” 

Baekhyun groaned. “Let’s do more,” he whine. “I’ll help.” He brought his knees up so that Taeyong could lean back against his thighs if he wanted. 

Taeyong let his head loll forward and gave himself a few more gentle pushes and pulls, savoring the gentle and unhurried pressure of Baekhyun’s dick against his prostate and the satisfaction of being filled. He probably couldn’t get off just like this, but Baekhyun knew he’d been teasing, anyway.

Humming, Taeyong lowered himself closer to Baekhyun and brought their mouths close. It wasn’t a full kiss so much as a brushing of their lips and a mingling of their breaths. But Taeyong wanted a little more leverage, so he pushed his hands a little further up, on either side of Baekhyun’s shoulders, and straightened his arms about halfway. 

Without speaking, Taeyong brought his ass up, the slide easy, so that Baekhyun almost fell out. Then he pushed back, the pressure and fullness deepening with every inch. 

Taeyong started off slow, sensual, wanting to ease them into it before it was Baekhyun’s turn to take over. He brought himself up and down, forward and back, his muscles tense as he fucked himself on Baekhyun’s dick. 

Baekhyun groaned, his noises deep and quiet to match Taeyong’s rhythm. Taeyong gave him back huffs and gasps, which got pulled out of his chest after he’d sunk down all the way and Baekhyun thrust himself up that little bit more. His dick would press right into Taeyong’s prostate and sent a new wave of liquid heat through his blood. 

Taeyong decided to have mercy on both of them. He moved his hands, trying to wipe off the sweat on his palms and find a good patch of the sheets to rest his knees. Without saying anything, Taeyong sped up his pace.

It wasn’t a fast transition. Taeyong drew out his rocking less, and Baekhyun’s hips rose from the bed on each thrust more. 

The sounds of their skin smacking became more frequent, sharper, and the strain in Taeyong’s shoulders and ass got angrier. 

A particularly heavy thrust punched a moan out of Taeyong’s throat, and he started slipping on the sheets. 

Baekhyun had gotten into his own pace, and Taeyong suddenly realized he had lost control of the position. It was all Taeyong could do to hold on. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” Taeyong cried with his breaths, the thrusts forcing them out of him, and he focused all his strength on meeting Baekhyun’s hips on their rhythm. 

The sounds of Taeyong’s whines, the smacking of his ass against Baekhyun’s thighs and groin, and the nasty suction of the lube as Baekhyun’s dick drove deep in Taeyong’s hole and then pulled out over and over made for an obscene song. It rattled around in Taeyong’s head, the filth of it all, and he knew he couldn’t stay in this position much longer.

“Ah, Baek—” he tried, swallowing, “Baekhyun, I— I can’t—”

“You can,” Baekhyun soothed, his voice sultry and punctuated with his own heavy breaths that were in time with his thrusts. Baekhyun gripped Taeyong’s waist and started helping him bounce.

The help was welcomed, but Taeyong could feel the hot blush high on his cheekbones and the sweat on his body. His legs were sore and his biceps were screaming. “Please, Baekhyun,” he whined, and his voice went higher in his begging. “Please, I need help, I can’t do it like this anymore, it’s good, Baekhyun, please!” 

One second, Taeyong was trying to keep up as Baekhyun fucked up into him, and the next, he was flopped onto his back and Baekhyun’s fingers wrapped around the backs of his knees. 

The muscles in his thighs and arms starting singing in instant relief, but Taeyong was not given any time to rest. Baekhyun kept fucking, his grip on Taeyong’s knees uncompromising and the thrust of his hips ruthless. Taeyong could think of nothing but the wicked heat in his ass, the golden pleasure in his groin, and the grunts and swears falling from Baekhyun’s lips. 

“So good, Baekhyun,” he cried, stuttering. “So—ah, so, so good, you’re so big and I—ah, feel—so full.” 

“You like it?” Baekhyun asked, and it was still so dark but Taeyong could feel Baekhyun’s bruising hands and his back sliding on the sheets and the bed bouncing underneath the weight and he saw everything as if there were spotlights shining on both of them. 

“I love—ah, f—Baek, fuck, ah,” Taeyong gasped, and Baekhyun’s hard and fast thrusts were still stable, like he was a machine, Taeyong really didn’t know how Baekhyun could be so steady when he was just a whimpering mess under him. 

The warmth had been simmering under Taeyong’s skin for over an hour now, starting first when Baekhyun had been pleasuring him at the window with his hands. But now it was a boiling, searing heat, and it was concentrated red hot in Taeyong’s groin.

Taeyong tried to tell Baekhyun that he was there, soon, now, but he couldn’t get his mouth to form any words. He just whined and moaned and whimpered, tossing his head back as far as he could go. He scrambled blindly to grasp hold of Baekhyun’s shoulders, his arms, his waist, anything Taeyong could touch, but he kept losing his grip and missing.

“Give it to me,” Baekhyun grunted, and the dark room went white when Baekhyun released one of Taeyong’s knees, letting his leg drop to the bed, and took Taeyong’s dick in his hand. He stroked up loosely once, twice, then pressed his thumb into the slit. 

Taeyong came. His orgasm pulsed through his body in time with his pulse, Baekhyun’s weight disappearing above him. Taeyong groaned, body rolling through it, every last drop of it bright and hot.

He couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything except the satisfaction and relief and arousal ebbing and flowing. He started becoming more and more aware of his heartbeat until his pleasure faded, gently, and Taeyong realized he still had a body. He felt the heels of his palms pressing against his eyes.

Then, they were gone, Baekhyun leaning forward and pulling Taeyong’s hands away from his face. He was still thrusting, his strokes a little slower but still going deep and strong. Was he even human?

“You feel good, baby?” Baekhyun asked, now on his elbows and nosing around Taeyong’s jaw as he drove in and out. 

Taeyong found the strength in his weak arms to run his hands through the hair at Baekhyun’s temples, then down the back of his neck and along his back. He didn’t feel like saying anything, didn’t have any more words left. 

It was just as well for Baekhyun. He could feel what Taeyong felt, didn’t need a clear look into his eyes to feel the looseness of his muscles and the absence of tension in his shoulders. He pressed more open-mouthed kisses along Taeyong’s jawline and behind his ear, his breath fluttering against Taeyong’s damp skin.

Baekhyun started thrusting faster and shallower. At the same time, his kisses got less kiss-like until he was just mouthing at Taeyong’s skin, huffing gasps and grunts against it. 

Taeyong felt that his legs were semi-functioning, so he lifted them and wrapped them around Baekhyun’s waist. The muscles in his thighs and ass were stiff, but he kept at it, linking his ankles and rolling his hips down to help Baekhyun.

“Your turn,” he breathed into Baekhyun’s ear, doing his best to meet Baekhyun’s thrusts despite his own blissful lack of energy.

Baekhyun started going faster. It stirred more heat in Taeyong, threatened to make him hard again, but then finally, finally, his pace started faltering. “I want it,” Taeyong said, knowing Baekhyun only had a little left. “Give it to me, Baekhyun, please?” Taeyong mouthed against Baekhyun’s temple. “You know I want you.”

A broken sound, caught between a moan and a whimper, spilled from Baekhyun’s mouth. Taeyong clenched around Baekhyun’s dick.

Baekhyun cried out, desperate at the feeling, and his thrusts stuttered as Taeyong felt him come inside him, the heat filling him deep. 

“Ah, Baekhyun, you feel so good,” Taeyong moaned, giving another roll of his hips, both to help Baekhyun and to release some of the pressure rebuilding in his groin. 

He thought he did a good job, if Baekhyun’s choked breath was anything to go by. “Fuck, Taeyong,” he panted. “So hot. So good.”

Now it was Baekhyun’s turn to circle his hips. The slide inside of Taeyong was even wetter with Baekhyun’s come, and Taeyong unwrapped his legs from Baekhyun’s waist. He let his feet fall on the bed, knees bent, to try and steady himself for the new pulses of pleasure Baekhyun was sending up his spine.

“Ah, Baekhyun,” he whined. 

Baekhyun moved his head up and put his mouth on Taeyong’s. It started as a loose kiss, Baekhyun brushing their lips together lightly. 

Then Taeyong brought his hands up from where they’d been around Baekhyun’s hips, cupping Baekhyun’s face. 

They deepened the kiss, though it never approached the same intensity as earlier. Instead it held a familiarity that belonged only to people who had mapped out each others’ mouths hundreds of times before. Baekhyun’s tongue swept along Taeyong’s bottom lip, dove inside his mouth and pressed gently against Taeyong’s own. But then it was gone, and their lips made gentle, slick sounds as they kissed.

Their first kiss had been years ago, before Taeyong had started working for Jongin as the vice president’s office manager—courtesy of Baekhyun, the other VP at their FiDi investment firm—and even before Taeyong had seen the view from Baekhyun’s apartment.

It had been in the East Village, in the spring, after Baekhyun had walked Taeyong back from the restaurant and they’d passed Rue B with the cigarette smoke sneaking out of the doorway. 

They turned down East 12th Street. It was a cloudy night, but the Manhattan streetlights cast a yellow tint around them.

“Most of New York is what I expected,” Taeyong said, wondering whether it was too fast to take Baekhyun’s hand or if he should just wait for the older man to do it. 

“What did you expect?” Baekhyun asked, watching Taeyong in the dark with a twinkle in his eye from the streetlights. 

Taeyong waved his hand back to the avenue they’d just left. “The smells,” he said. “Like the trash and the smoke.”

“It doesn’t all smell bad,” Baekhyun said, then touched Taeyong’s shoulder before pointing at what they were passing as they meandered down the sidewalk. Taeyong looked over and saw a community garden.

The black fence in front of it was closed and locked, but Taeyong could see past it to the trees and bushes and flowers that gave way to rows of garden boxes, vegetable leaves sprawling in the dirt. 

From this distance, they couldn’t smell any of the flowers. But there was no cigarette smoke, no sewer smells, just the peaceful scent of the greenery’s freshly-made oxygen. 

Taeyong breathed it in, felt it fill his chest and clean out his lungs.

His mood had been lifted since the moment he saw Baekhyun at the front of the restaurant. He’d expected it, because Baekhyun had been stopping by so often in the past few weeks as the weather changed from brutal cold to gentle warmth. 

When Baekhyun showed up again that night, happy to wait for a table under Taeyong’s care, those big questions that had been demanding attention from Taeyong quieted down, content to see whether he’d finally found some answers. Taeyong smiled to himself and thought that moving to the city might have been a good idea, after all.

The night had been sweet, and the air in front of the garden was no different.

“So, only most of New York is what you thought,” Baekhyun said. “What’s the part you didn’t expect?”

Taeyong figured he didn’t need to wait any more. “You,” he said with a smile, and leaned forward.


End file.
